Something Deadly This Way Comes

I followed Nakita inside, seeing the faded carpet with the flat, black spots that had to be old gum. It smelled like dry dirt, and there was a thick layer of dust on the narrow sections of hardwood between the carpeted stairs and the wall. A bank of mail slots took up one wall with a scratched table under it. There were a couple of pieces of mail sitting there, and nothing else.

“Upstairs?” I offered, and Nakita started up, then me, and finally Barnabas, still probably thinking about his soul or the lack of one. Someone was playing music too loudly, and it rapidly grew as we ascended.

We rounded the second landing and started up the last stairway. The music was coming from the third floor. It thumped into me, the bass being joined by a guitar and an angry vocal the higher we went. My curiosity turned into a wince as I realized that the aggressive music was coming from the apartment that Nakita had stopped in front of. C3, corner apartment, top floor. It went without saying that Tammy’s mom was probably not home.

Suddenly unsure, I wiped my hands on my jeans. I didn’t have a clue what I could say that wouldn’t sound crazy. I didn’t care if I sounded crazy at this point. The memory of the two of them dying was too awful to risk becoming true.

“Well?” Nakita prompted.

“This is a bad plan,” Barnabas said, but he leaned past me, ringing the bell and knocking on the varnished door.

Plan? Who said anything about a plan? I don’t even have a plan! I thought in panic as a dog began to yap wildly, and the thin strip of light coming from under the door was eclipsed by frantic little paws. From behind the door came a kid’s voice telling the dog to shut up, and then, with a burst of music, the door opened.

“Yeah?” Johnny said, hardly looking up from his handheld game as Seether’s “Fake It” blasted. With one foot, he shoved the little yellow dog back. He was still dressed in his school clothes, and the polo shirt and black Dockers looked out of place in the untidy living room behind him with its dirty dishes on the coffee table. The adjoining dining room wasn’t much better, the table covered in what looked like college textbooks. To the right was the open kitchen, just off the narrow entryway. I blanched at the memory of the room in flame, and my eyes went to the ceiling, recalling the beautiful, deadly curls of gold and black and the searing heat in my lungs as Johnny died in my arms.

Tonight? I wondered, scared. It had to be. The vision had been very clear.

“Is your sister here?” Barnabas finally said, since I was lost in the horror of the memory.

Still playing his game, Johnny dropped back. “Tammy!” he shouted over the music. “Your friends are here!” Head down, he walked to his room off to the left. From the kitchen, the phone began to ring. The dog, too, was still barking. Not knowing what to do, we all stood in the doorway.

“Come on in,” Johnny said, walking backward and killing ninjas at the same time, and then louder called, “Tammy!” Without looking up, he edged into his room and shoved the door closed.

I looked at the two of them, and then the empty room. “Should we go in?”

Barnabas pushed forward. “I would,” he said, positioning himself just over the threshold. “Otherwise as soon as she sees us, she’s going to slam the door in our faces.”

“Have some faith, Barnabas,” I said as I followed Nakita in and stood with my feet just on the linoleum that marked the beginning of the kitchen.

“I have lots of faith,” the fallen angel said as he crouched and coaxed the dog closer. “I have faith that this is a bad idea. She’s not going to believe you. She’s going to think we’re nuts. She’s going to call the police unless she has a record, and if she does, she’ll run away.”

I frowned, glancing at the front door. It didn’t seem right to shut it.

Nakita shifted to stand even deeper in the kitchen, positioning herself so she could see the entire main room. “There’s a lot of noise in here,” she said, looking at the phone, still ringing.

Maybe a fried stereo would be what started the fire. I was starting to wonder how these two had survived even this long when from a back bedroom came a frustrated, “I said, would you get that, Johnny?”

The volume of the music suddenly halved. Three seconds later, the door across the living room from Johnny’s was yanked open and Tammy strode out, her hair swinging as she stomped into the living room and started throwing couch pillows as she looked for the phone.

“Where’s the friggin’ phone?” she muttered, snatching it up. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked mad. Spinning, she jerked to a stop as she saw us all standing in the kitchen, Barnabas still crouched as he rubbed the ears of the little dog. The phone in her hand rang again, seeming to jerk her out of her surprise.

“Oh, no,” she said, recognizing me. “Get out!” she shouted, waving her arm at me. “Johnny! You’re not supposed to let anyone in!”

“It’s for you!” came his hidden voice. “I’m not your stupid secretary.”

Expression dark, she started for us, halting as she realized how vulnerable she was. Holding the phone like a weapon, she snapped, “Get out,” before thumbing the phone line open.

“Hello?” she said, watching us stand there. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tambu. Johnny turned it up when I was in the bathroom. It’s down now.” She frowned. “I said I’m sorry!” she said, then hung up on him. Shaking, she faced us. “I told you to get out!” she said loudly, but she looked scared, making me wonder why she hadn’t told her neighbor we were up here.

“Tammy, just listen,” I said, thinking that leaving the door open might have helped. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble?” Tammy pointed the phone at us. “I’m not the one breaking and entering! Get the hell out or I’m calling the police!”

But she hadn’t yet, so I didn’t think she would. From her room the music shifted to something darker, more dangerous.

Barnabas stood up from petting the dog, looking calm and casual, like the lead singer in a boy band. “It will take them forty minutes to get here,” he said, his voice soothing, beautiful. “If you listen to us, we’ll leave in three.”

Tammy swallowed and Nakita rolled her eyes at the effect he had on her. “Who are you?” she asked him. “You weren’t on the bus.”

“Barnabas.” He smiled, and I almost groaned as he charmed her. Good grief, he was better at this than Nakita and me put together, and yet he still harbored doubts we could make a difference.

Nakita edged forward. “We’re trying to help. Your soul is safe, but not your life.”

Tammy’s expression immediately shifted back to mistrust.

“Nakita!” I all but hissed at her. “Will you shut up about souls! Everyone thinks we’re nuts when you talk about souls like they’re as common as TVs.”

She looked at me innocently. “But they are.”

“That doesn’t mean we talk about them!” I said, exasperated.

Tammy was eyeing us between glances at the door, the phone still in her hand. “Did my mom send you? Is this her perverted way of checking up on me?” she asked. “God! It’s like a police state around here. You can tell her to stay out of my life! I’m not a baby!”

Her mom? I wish. “Your mom doesn’t know we’re here,” I said, thinking it would help.

Barnabas threw the dog’s toy, and the little thing tore after it. “Is that Soap Scum?” he asked, and I stared until I realized he was talking about the music.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, losing her aggressive stance again. “You’ve heard of them?”

He smiled. “I saw them in concert in Chicago, right before the drummer died from a heart attack.”

Nakita snorted. “Did you mess up his scythe prevention, too?”

Barnabas frowned, taking the dog’s toy as the animal jumped at his knees. “No. I was there for one of the kids in the audience.”

“Scythe prevention?” Tammy whispered. She looked at the phone in her hand and took a step back. “What are you guys trying to be? Grim reapers?”

“No,” Nakita said before I could tell her to shut up. “We’re dark reapers.” She hesitated, then added, “I think. Madison, if we’re trying to save lives, then are we technically light?”

“No,” I said, worried about Tammy’s expression. This was going sour fast. There were too many people mucking it up, and I couldn’t get to why I was here. “Tammy, two minutes,” I said. “That’s it. You listen for two